


when you said to me "you are not so old"

by vallierdetilly



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: (triple whammy babey), Angst and Fluff and Smut, I picture them both as being out but Ernst is like, Love Confessions, M/M, Modern Era, can Hanschen be both seductive AND care deeply for Ernst?, hernst, quietly out of the closet, still got that religious family and stuff, the answer has literally always been yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vallierdetilly/pseuds/vallierdetilly
Summary: "Those bells are so... uh, peaceful, huh?" Hanschen queries, starting to walk towards the back of the changeroom shed. Ernst nods, following closely behind him and sitting down on the thankfully real grass as he smooths out his mom jeans."They really are," he replies. He intends at leaving it at that, but then, to his own bewilderment, his mouth opens again.or, a modern au of The Word of Your Body (Reprise) with more sex





	when you said to me "you are not so old"

**Author's Note:**

> is a modern au of the vineyard scene a big undertaking? yes but I am stupid so I did it anyways
> 
> the title is from I've Been Waiting by Matthew Sweet
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! follow me on my tumblr of the same name if you want, and kudos and comments are always appreciated!!!!

Ernst arrives at the bleachers overlooking his school's football field first, the cold autumn wind nipping at his nose and prompting him to crunch up his face. He had to jump over a fence to get onto gymnasium property in the evening, the small act of rebellion sending a brief rush through his nerves.

He's grateful to have worn his bomber jacket today over top of his yellow polo so he doesn't freeze, hoping that Hanschen will have chosen something warm to wear as well. 

Hanschen. Ernst is on his way to talk to Hanschen Rilow. 

He exhales in disbelief. Ernst and Hanschen have talked before in and out of class, even having studied together a couple of times, but Ernst can't decipher why Hanschen would want to see him today, so privately and only a few days after Moritz's funeral. 

He can hope why, but he doesn't think it likely. Hanschen may be bisexual, but Ernst is sure that shy, religious boys that are a three whole inches taller than him aren't his type. 

That hasn't stopped Ernst from having an all-consuming crush on Hanschen from the moment he saw him on the first day of grade eight when Hanschen had transferred to their gymnasium. He was instantly enraptured by his steely grey eyes and plump, pink lips that cause him to daydream during Latin. 

And now they're actually _friends_ , Ernst ruminates as he steps over the faded spray-painted lines of the field. A small smile begins to grow on his lips, but he stops it from blooming.

Nothing's going to happen tonight. They're just going to talk. That's all.

Staring up at the dusk sky as he walks over to the metal bench, he is caught off guard when his long legs trip over a lone football, feeling himself start to fall and his body collide with the turf. 

His instinctive whimper covers the sound of footsteps running towards him, and Ernst screams when he hears his name said to him. He whips his head up to see Hanschen, faintly illuminated by the sunset. 

Of course, Hanschen did not choose something warm to wear. He's dressed in a black shirt with Gucci logos and dark, sinfully tight jeans showing off every inch of curvature in Hanschen's thighs and calves. Gucci isn't even popular in Munich, Ernst thinks to himself. It's a replicated shirt from an American website, he determines, but he's too distracted by the way it outlines the older boy's broad chest to really care.

He can't stand Hanschen sometimes.

"Ernst?" Hanschen repeats when Ernst doesn't hear him in his frenzy. Genuine concern decorates his eyes, still unable to avoid the smirk beginning to escape his lips. "Are you alright?"

Ernst calms down, nodding sorely. "Yeah, I think so. Someone left out their football from practice."

Hanschen leans down and outstretches his hand to him. Ernst pauses before grabbing it and subsequently flushing because _oh wow,_ _he's holding Hanschen's hand_. He curses himself for already feeling a sanctuary of butterflies come alive in his stomach.

"Probably Herr Doede," Hanschen laughs as he pulls Ernst onto his feet, Ernst having to work hard to hide his sorrow when their intertwined fingers break apart. "Thea should tell her father to put away the school equipment when they're done."

Ernst brushes his shoulder off, fake turf falling from his jacket. "I doubt it. Thea avoids him like the plague, both at home _and_ at school."

"Fair enough."

Ernst laughs for a short second, and then, an awkward silence. 

Hanschen just looks up at the sky, his perfecly combed hair falling backwards off of his forehead.

It pains Ernst. Kills him. He wants to speak to Hanschen, wants to say anything and not pine like this in quietude. He's standing right in front of him, alone, with none of their peers around for what seems like the first time in months. Not Otto, Wendla, Georg, Anna, Martha - no one.

Ernst decides to speak now, before the chance passes him by, but is cut off by the sound of bells from the nearby church. He snaps back to reality and blinks, focusing on Hanschen gazing at him with an expression he can't quite read.

"Those bells are so... uh, peaceful, huh?" Hanschen queries, starting to walk towards the back of the changeroom shed. Ernst nods, following closely behind him and sitting down on the thankfully real grass as he smooths out his mom jeans.

"They really are," he replies. He intends at leaving it at that, but then, to his own bewilderment, his mouth opens again.

"Sometimes, when I hear them in the evening and stuff, I think about being a pastor."

Hanschen directs a quizzical, but non-judgemental look at him, and he realizes what he just said. _Fantastic_ _, Ernst, what a great thing to say in front of the atheist_ , he muses.

"Y'know, I'd have a nice little house in the woods with a library," Ernst starts to backtrack, quickly coming to the conclusion that he can't stop his own vocal chords from making noises. "Maybe a couple of degrees from my studies hanging up on the walls. A pie in the window, probably grape because I really like grapes."

_Shit, I can't shut up._

"I don't picture it being, like, completely removed from society, so I'd still have Wi-Fi, but it'd definitely be super secluded."

_You can't be serious._

"And then on Sunday, I'll teach the boys and girls who live near the church about God and how he loves them regardless of anything. That they matter."

Ernst looks at Hanschen, sitting against the wall next to him, anticipating Hanschen to laugh at him. He is so full of dread that he considers just getting up and leaving now, calling it a nice chat and going home to miserably touch himself once again to Hanschen's Instagram profile when his parents are asleep.

But Hanschen isn't cackling and pointing, to Ernst's surprise. He's listening intently.

"You don't find that weird, do you?" Ernst asks, and Hanschen shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

"Not in the slightest," he answers, much to Ernst's relief. "I mean, you do you."

Ernst likes him so much that he feels like a ticking bomb, a vivid glint in Hanschen's eye being enough to set him off. "Oh. Um, thanks."

Hanschen nods in agreement before turning to him with a grin, his slightly uneven teeth poking out behind his lips. "I will say though, I have never met a more sentimental, grandpa-ish teenager."

Ernst doesn't know if he should be offended or not, but he's utterly charmed enough that he bursts into high-pitched giggles.

"Well, what do you wanna do when you grow up, Hanschen?" Ernst shoots back, maybe a bit coyishly in a feeble attempt to make Hanschen laugh. He does.

"Move," Hanschen chuckles dryly, and Ernst sits up straight, his narrow eyebrows furrowing at the deflection.

"Move? What do you mean, move?" Ernst grills him. Hanschen clears his throat, his demeanor turning portentous.

"I just don't like it here. No offense, darling, but I'd take Berlin over Munich any day," he states in such a calm manner that Ernst barely notices the red growing on his cheeks from Hanschen calling him darling.

"But what's wrong with Munich?" Ernst reasons, striving to keep the mood light but intuiting that something deeper is going on. "We almost hosted the Olympics in 2018."

Hanschen scoffs. "First, the fact that we didn't should say enough. Second, I can't stand what this city did to Moritz."

Ernst puffs out, visible breath disappearing in the cold air. He knows - _knows_  - that he took Moritz's place in school. If he hadn't passed, things might be so different. Or maybe they wouldn't be at all.

Hanschen senses his classmate grappling with inner turmoil and places a hand on his knee, the touch comparable to a stray bolt of lightning for Ernst. "Hey, hey. This isn't your fault."

Ernst looks at Hanschen's visage and sees hope - something he rarely spots Hanschen having, ever - but can't find it within himself to be settled. He, maybe naively, assumed that his faith would soothe him when it seemed like his familiar world was starting to fall apart in front of his eyes. That isn't the case.

"Like... but what if it is?" Ernst asks, his soaring treble nearly a whisper. "It was going to be one of us. Moritz snuck into the principal's office and saw the marks we received. They were virtually identical."

Hanschen ponders this for a moment, eyes downcast at the dying grass around them, and then returns his stare to Ernst, whose knees are tucked into his arms in shame.

"No one should be expelled just because they got a couple of bad marks. That's not the solution at all," Hanschen says solidly, and Ernst perks up. "Maybe some extra tutoring? Yes. A temporary suspension from extracurricular activities? Sure. But not letting them go."

Ernst doesn't know if he is fully convinced yet, but _God_ , could he listen to Hanschen talk for forever. His tone is sturdy, present, real.

"That's my problem with Munich, Ernst. With this school. Not to sound like... someone we know who also just got expelled, but it's all corrupt," he continues, and Ernst snickers, back hunched over but face turned towards Hanschen. He cannot laugh at Melchior - he is another boy lost to the gymnasium, albeit for better reasons - yet he struggles to think of anything better to do. 

"It's like a system, and all you can do is try to make it work in your favour."

"Work in your favour?" Ernst repeats softly, and Hanschen nods, a small smile on his lips.

"Here's how I like to think about it. It's like a pail of milk," Hanschen resumes, scooting closer to Ernst so that their thighs are slightly brushing against each other.

Ernst wonders if Hanschen knows that this is making him crazy, praying that Hanschen would stop fretting with these Basic Literary Studies metaphors and just embrace him, but his voice is adding to Ernst's growing hard on beneath his jeans.

He allows Hanschen to keep monologuing, if just for his own enjoyment.

"Someone works far too hard to churn it into butter," Hanschen says, but before he can continue, Ernst cuts him off pointedly.

"Do you have any examples?" 

Hanschen is taken aback, starting to stumble over his words (a win, in Ernst's eyes), but grins. "Um... sure. Let's say that that's Otto."

Ernst is attentive, simultaneously far too aware of how close their faces are getting to each other, how the iron of Hanschen's eyes bore into Ernst's brown ones.

"And another one, you know, spills it and cries the entire night, even though the saying clearly points out that that's a pointless thing to do. That sounds like Georg, doesn't it?" Hanschen jokes, and Ernst laughs again, tinged with guilt because of how easy he finds it to poke fun at the classmates he has known for years.

Hanschen takes a deep breath, and exposes his thesis statement. "And then one just. Skims off the cream."

If all the blood hadn't rushed from Ernst's brain before, it certainly had now. When Hanschen vulgarly sucks on one of his fingers to get the point across, Ernst feels his back hit the concrete wall again in shell shock.

"Like _me_ ," Hanschen finishes, the end of the sentence dropping down into a register that Ernst can practically feel in his gut.

Ernst doesn't blink, his eyes fixed on Hanschen eyeing him up and down when his tongue is completely tied. Then, Hanschen starts chuckling to himself.

"Hanschen? What is it?"

"Fuck, I can't take this anymore," Hanschen mutters, grabbing Ernst's cheeks with his hands and deftly leaning over to kiss him.

Ernst tenses up when his slightly chapped lips meet with Hanschen's, but quickly melts into him. He kisses back, his hands scrambling to touch anywhere, quickly finding Hanschen's strong biceps and digging his nails into them, causing Hanschen to moan into his mouth. 

Ernst has imagined this for so long, and it's all he's ever wanted it to be.

Hanschen takes his palms off of Ernst's cheeks, instead finding purchase in his torso as Ernst relaxes into Hanschen's physique.

After what he supposes is only eight seconds but fees like a voyage into outer space, he pulls back, gasping for air and covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Oh my god."

Hanschen, still pulling off his confident bearing to perfection, hums. "I know." He pulls Ernst onto his lap so Ernst is straddling him, the friction of the denim driving Ernst to feel far too hot in the late September chill.

"When we look back, I have a feeling we'll remember tonight very clearly," Hanschen teases, a lopsided grin tainting his symmetrical face. 

"What about now, though?" Ernst replies, concurrently flirting with him and fearful that this is where Hanschen intends to leave him, disappearing into the night like a fleeting mirage.

To Ernst's relief, Hanschen pulls him back in for another kiss, this one more benign. "Why not?" Hanschen whispers hotly against Ernst's lips.

Hanschen's hands skillfully start to take Ernst's bomber jacket off of his lanky frame, discarding it to the ground before moving to the buttons on the younger boy's crisp polo. Ernst runs his hands up Hanschen's shirt, gasping when his fingers brush against Hanschen's abdomen, something he always envisioned Hanschen having but now had very tangible proof of existing. 

Ernst's hands move to his back, ghosting over each muscle until he is able to tug the close-fitting tee off of Hanschen. He pulls away again to watch Hanschen underneath him, completely breathless, and decides to do an experiment.

He grinds his hips into Hanschen's groin, feeling Hanschen's cock twitch through his jeans between Ernst's ass cheeks.

Hanschen groans, dilated eyes pleading for Ernst to do it again, and he complies as Hanschen helps him pull his shirt over his head. Hanschen runs his fists through Ernst's soft, dark chocolate tresses before leaning up from the wall to sloppily kiss his neck, words of praise falling from Ernst's lips.

In this moment, Ernst forgets everything that has been worrying him. He forgets about his school, his family, his religion, his childhood crumbling to the ground. He only finds Hanschen within the ashes. 

Ernst tenderly kisses Hanschen's jaw, moving his mouth further and further down the sandy brunet's tan body until he is face to face with the zipper on Hanschen's skinny jeans. He glances at Hanschen for approval, and begins to fumble with the zipper, giggles erupting from both boys as Ernst pulls it down and reveals the tent in Hanschen's (far too expensive) underwear. Hanschen pries his jeans down to his thighs and Ernst hesitantly stretches the waistband of the briefs over the bulge, Hanschen's erection springing free.

Ernst stares, nervously taking it in. It's quite big, he thinks, his mouth watering at the sight of it. He props himself up on one arm, looking towards Hanschen's rising and falling chest.

"On my way here, I thought perhaps we'd only, like, talk," he teases. Hanschen simpers, his eyes twinkling devilishly.

"So, are you sorry we- _oh fuck, Ernst_ ," he groans, taken by surprise when Ernst's lips quickly lower onto his shaft.

That's all the encouragement Ernst needs to languidly lick up and down Hanschen's cock, his head bobbing in a steady rhythm as Hanschen grabs onto his shoulders like handlebars. 

"God, you're so good, baby," Hanschen pants as Ernst uses his cheeks to add extra suction. Ernst pulls off of Hanschen to unbutton his own jeans, shimmying out of them completely and reaching his hand into his boxer briefs, shivering when he starts to stimulate himself. 

Hanschen pushes the other boy back down towards his cock, moaning when Ernst takes all of him in his mouth. 

He pauses for a moment - he has to adjust to the feeling of Hanschen prodding against his throat - but starts sucking again when he feels comfortable. Hanschen starts to thrust up into Ernst's mouth, gradually gaining speed at he nears his orgasm. 

Ernst is too engulfed in the moment, the thrill of sucking Hanschen's, or anyone's, dick for the first time that he forgets they're outside on school property until he feels the grass beneath his knees and the breeze blowing against his bare back. It excites him, though, and he swirls his tongue around Hanschen's head, provoking him to grunt Ernst's name. When he swipes a drop of precum off of the slit, that sends the 15 year old over the edge.

"Er- Ernst, I'm gonna c-cum," Hanschen shutters, not being to hold on any longer and shooting white hot ribbons down Ernst's throat. Ernst moans at each new sensation, swallowing the load and removing his mouth from Hanschen's cock with an audible pop.

Hanschen immediately draws him into a hungry kiss, lips and teeth crashing together as he flips Ernst under him so his back is on the grass. Hanschen may be out of oxygen, but he is still firm as he pulls off Ernst's underwear and slides himself in between Ernst's thighs, his hands roaming smooth, untouched skin.

"Oh, _Hanschen!_ " Ernst cries as Hanschen starts thrusting his hips into Ernst's ass, his cock pressed up against the hole. He pumps himself at a lightning pace, the world around him blurring into a purple-shaded rainbow as his free hand scrambles to pull Hanschen closer to his pale figure. Hanschen grinds his dampened body against Ernst's, luxuriating in his effect on him when Ernst whines. "Ple- please, Hans, that's it..."

"Are you close, Ernst?" Hanschen breathes into his ear. Ernst isn't able to speak, nodding fervently as he feels his orgasm pooling up in his pelvis. He senses a pressure building in his muscles, like a growth of roots grounding him where he lays. It is much more visceral than what he feels when he is masturbating by himself, but it is a million times better.

Heaven feels like this, he realizes: two boys exploring passion in the earth, marking each other with anything they wish. And with another movement of Hanschen’s hips, Ernst's body starts convulsing with pleasure, his toes curling and his eyelids flying wide open.

"Cum for me, babe," Hanschen rasps, collapsing onto Ernst as Ernst rocks through his explosion, the heat shaking him deep to his core.

Hanschen rolls over so he is laying next to Ernst, some of Ernst's cum sticking to his stomach. Ernst gazes into his eyes; so often dark and cold under the public's watch, but warm and full of life when Hanschen looks at him.

Hanschen Rilow just gave him an orgasm. Even more, he made Hanschen cum, too. 

"I didn't know you had that in you, Ernst," Hanschen chuckles, making Ernst blush. "Well, I had always hoped that you did."

He leans over to kiss Ernst again, Ernst barely returning the contact out of his own exhaustion. Hanschen draws back, his smirk turning to apprehension.

"You aren't actually sorry that we did this, are you?" he asks, Ernst stunned at the timidity in his voice.

Maybe Hanschen really did care for him in the way that he did.

There was only one way to find out.

"No, no, no," Ernst comforts, before breathing in with nervous anticipation.

"I love you, Hanschen."

The sound of wind blows through the distant vines and Ernst's heart threatens to snap in half.

Hanschen doesn't outwardly react to this confession except for a few blinks. Ernst feels his pulse quicken faster and faster, his chest weighing down on him and the frightening feeling of being known launching him into the shadows. He has both everything and nothing to lose, and he can't tell which one terrifies him more.

"I mean, as I've never loved anyone else. I've never - loved anyone, but I love you, Hanschen." He is rambling once again, his stomach contracting shallowly, and Hanschen embraces him in a tight squeeze. He sweetly hushes into Ernst's ear before facing him, their foreheads gently pressed against each other.

"I love you too, Ernst," Hanschen tells him when their eyes meet again, his hoarse voice now unfaltering and true. "I have ever since I first saw you, what feels like way back then."

"Really?" Ernst implores.

"Really," Hanschen assures him, lacing his fingers inbetween Ernst's frail ones. "And what we have now, _this_? I'm not letting go of for the life of me."

Ernst feels a tear slip down his cheek, a wave of emotion crashing over and revitalizing him. Munich may be getting more unrecognizable as each day passes, but he and Hanschen will start anew.

They will be the constant.

They will be the good.

Ernst limply drags his body an inch across the dirt until his head is tucked into the crook of Hanschen's neck, sighing in contentment as his new lover once again drapes his now softened muscular arms around him.

"My parents are probably wondering where I am," he murmurs. Hanschen laughs, his yellowed ivories bare in the falling moonlight.

"Surely they can wait for just a couple of more minutes, can't they?" he proposes, and Ernst nods as Hanschen lightly kisses his forehead.

He is  _so_ lovestruck.

"Yeah. I suppose they can."


End file.
